To Love Another Soul
by Writer of Eryn Lasgalen
Summary: Saerinil Ithiliel is living a dull life in Seattle when Gandalf the Grey summons her to Middle Earth. As she joins the Fellowship, she starts to wonder about her true identity, especially when she discovers her own hidden magical power, all while struggling over feelings for a certain handsome Elf. Better than it looks! My first fic so be gentle ;);)
1. Middle Earth in my Toaster

_This is my first fic! I hope you enjoy, because I really enjoy writing it!_

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I walk as inconspicuously as I can possibly walk in the midst of my deep daydreams towards the quaint, tidy coffee shop at the corner. I don't like people noticing me, because all they notice when I look at them is the odd color of my eyes. They are a striking pale violet that often makes people stop in their tracks and stare. I become uncomfortable with this staring, as I do not wish to attract unwanted attention. Thus, I pull the medieval-looking hood of my raincoat over my head. I suppose I have a fetish for things that look like they've come from a medieval fantasy universe.

The bell rings softly as I enter the coffee shop, and I marvel over how such a beautiful sound could come from something so simple as a handbell. The boy behind the counter - the same boy who is behind the counter every day - lifts his head.

"Hello," I say cheerfully. I always try to give these college students some friendly conversation. They're sitting behind a counter all day taking orders and making coffee while probably not allowed to have any themselves.

"Hello, Miss," he says in a flat monotone. "May I take your order?"

"I would like a small coffee please." I do not like how over-the-top and overrated frappucinos are these days.

"We'll have your order right up." The poor fellow must have been repeating those same words all day. Once I've turned away from him and my strangely colored eyes are no longer in sight, I lower my silver hood and sit down in the corner chair.

Luckily, my hair stayed dry. The weather always seems dreadful in Seattle these days. It is spring, and the rainy season is only beginning. Oh, how I wish this season would end, and July would come already, bringing with it the warmth of sunshine. I do miss seeing the beauty of the stars at night and feeling the heat of the sun on my shoulders.

My pale hair tumbles around my shoulders like waves of vomit from an ethereally beautiful unicorn. In this light, it appears somewhat gold, though at other times is slightly more silver. It rather stands out in Seattle where most people have short, silky brown hair that they actually put effort into styling. I never liked my hair, and thus I always just let it hang down to my waist in waves of contrived unicorn vomit. Oh, how I such hated my hair.

"Your coffee?" the boy calls. I am the only one here at the moment. All the business has gone to the new Starbucks that opened downtown. I stride over and pick up my coffee, brushing my hair in front of my eyes. I'm probably more self-conscious about their color than I should be, but maybe that comes from being teased about it all through high school.

"Please sign the receipt." He hands me the paper and a pen, and I hastily sign _Saerinil _on the small sheet of paper. Leave it to my parents to give me such a weird name, but they're not alive for me to blame for it. I am told they died in a fire when I was a baby, but I never took the time to investigate.

I leave the shop quickly, as another man has just entered. My hair blows about my pale face in the wind, and I can sense another rainstorm coming in. I always wanted freckles, but luck has never particularly been on my side. The man comes out after me, and only then do I notice his stern, dark eyes and his gray beard. He is following me. I am used to being followed; after all I do sometimes work undercover for the local police station, but I am not on one of those missions at the moment. It is all I can do not to turn and run.

"Milady!" he calls after me. Why, I thought I was the only human who still used such old fashioned titles.

I turn around and look at him. "Yes?" I ask, blinking a couple of times.

He stops in front of me. His face is weathered and worried, and there are great bags under his eyes. His gray suit is still in perfect condition, which seems odd to me given the rain, but his hands and face are grimy.

"Milady, are you Saerinil Ithiliel?"

I smile at him gratefully. At least someone can pronounce my name correctly, given its oddness. I used to be teased about it all the time when I was in school. People rolled their tongues over it improperly and laughed at me as I walked down the halls, imitating the flowing grace with which I strode. It was an unnatural grace that had served me well when I was learning swordplay, but when I was younger it only got me teased.

"Yes, I am. Who are you?"

"I am Gandalf the Gray."

I gasp. "You can't be! He is only a character!" I had always been in love with _Lord of the Rings. _I had read the books at least thirteen times and each time wept when such beloved characters as Gandalf and Boromir and Haldir had died.

"Just because I was born in words to you does not mean that I was never real. Middle Earth is in danger, Saerinil, and you are the only one who can help us. I have taken great risk in finding you, Saerinil. Your presence could stir great unrest amongst the wise folk of our land."

I cover my mouth with my pale hand. "You say 'our' as if it is my land too."

Gandalf looks me straight in the eye. "It is, Saerinil. You are a half-Elf."

"No. It can't be!" But yet, it all makes sense. My grace, my flawless skin, and my odd colored eyes. I don't fit in in this world. I only belong in Middle Earth.

"How long have you known I was here?"

"You were born thousands of years ago, Saerinil, but you were sent to this world with a spell cast on you to age as if you were human. You were born in the years of the first rise of Sauron and the creation of the One Ring. And now Sauron is returning, and without your help, a great shadow will fall upon all of Middle Earth."

I gulp. This is all a lot to take in over the course of a single day, but my overwhelming sense of duty starts to take over. "What must I do?" I ask quietly. After all, there is little for me in this world. I am an outcast of society, and none here understand me. I cannot not impose my Middle Earth-born self upon the world I grew up in any longer.

Gandalf nodded curtly at me. "Thank you for your cooperation. You must return to your apartment and make sure there is nothing flammable left on. I would hate to start a fire in your city. Then you must unplug your toaster and remove the grates. Then you will know what to do."

Then he turned away from me and walked back down the rainy streets.

Back at my apartment, I hurry to the bathroom, where I have left my blow dryer plugged in like I always do. Then I go around making sure that there is nothing capable of burning down the block. On the way to the kitchen, I pass an old photo of my boyfriend from high school, and I sigh a bit wistfully. I was in love with him then, and he left me because he thought I was going out with his best friend. Truly, his best friend did love me, but it was unrequited by me. Ah, my past is tortured.

My hair falls around my eyes as I reach my fingers into the toaster and pull out the grates, setting them on the counter. I have just barely cleaned everything, like I always do on Saturdays to make sure the home was tidy.

The toaster begins to glow, silver light shooting out of it and causing my hair to blow about in a wind that came from nowhere and my pale violet orbs to sparkle in the sudden light. I am lifted into the air and turned over and over and over until finally I lose consciousness, and all I can see is stars and planets as far as my vision extends.

Suddenly, I wake up. "Where am I?" I whisper. An etherreally beautiful man is hovering over me, staring into my eyes.

"I am Legolas Greenleaf," he says softly. "You are in Rivendell. I have been charged with waiting for you to wake. Welcome to Middle Earth, Saerinil Ithiliel."

I look into his pale blue eyes. He has a handsome face and a kind expression. I sit up quietly, my hair falling about my shoulders in small waves. "You know who I am?"

He laughs, a sound like clear bells on a spring day. "Indeed I do. The wise know much of you, Saerinil." He fingers a loose piece of my hair and tucks it gently behind my ear. "I do not know that much. But you are a great force, for good or ill."

I purse my lips. "Well what does that mean?"

But Legolas only shakes his head. "I do not know, My Lady. That is what Lord Elrond has said. But at least Gandalf is fond of you. That much I have gathered.

"Why?"

"Again, My Lady, I do not know. But I wish you luck. You will be joining the Council of Elrond in a few hours."

Because clearly a few hours is a perfect amount of time to regain full consciousness, get my bearings, and meet people before I am thrown unceremoniously into a political meeting.

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Middle Earth, as luck would have it, is beautiful. At least as far as Rivendell extends, that is. Waterfalls tumble everywhere, and the entire Homely House glitters in the sunlight. I am now dressed in a silver gown that Arwen lent to me when I awoke. There was no use arousing suspicion as to my origin, she said. I don't know exactly what she means by that, but I'm curious. I wonder if it has anything to do with the parents I thought I had lost when I was young.

The Council of Elrond is around me, bickering. My knowledge of the books and films has been wiped for some reason. I cannot help them with the wisdom from my world. All I remember is names and names and names. No deeds or heroisms.

Frodo offers himself up quickly, and I feel a stab of pity for the poor Halfling. He must have expected to go home by now, but if anything, there is relief in Gandalf's eyes. Then he turns to me, and I know what he expects of me. I rise to my feet, my silver gown tumbling behind me and pooling around my feet as I walk.

I kneel beside him. "I will aid you as well as I can," I say soothingly, and he stares up at me with round, blue eyes. He is scared. But so am I. No one has told me what my purpose is yet, only that it is important. I can tell they are hiding something, but maybe this quest will reveal it. So I am happy to go.

My hair is braided in Elvish fashion down my back, falling to my waist, and it falls over my right shoulder as I speak.

Soon Aragorn volunteers, and then Legolas and Gimli and Gandalf and Boromir and three other little Halflings who I have not yet spoken to.

"Ten to counter the forces of darkness, then," said Elrond proudly, looking us over. His gaze rests on me, and there is a flicker of worry in his eyes. But then he says, "You are the Fellowship of the Ring," and the worry is then gone.

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_Read and review, plz! This has been great fun, and I can't wait to get to further chapters!_


	2. Mysterious Powers?

_Hi! Here's chapter two! :):) You should read and review plzplzplz I'm so hyper and happy right now ;)_

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At last, we have departed. I remember clearly the tears of Arwen as poor Aragorn bade her goodbye, not knowing if he would ever see her again. After all, certain death lies before us, and for all my former knowledge of the _Lord of the Rings, _all I remember now is the title and characters. No exposition is left in my emptied mind.

I walk tirelessly between Legolas and Aragorn, thrilled that all my years of distance running in high school and college have paid off, as well as all my fitness training while I prepared to work in the Seattle Police Department. I was going to complete that training; I was on the road to becoming one of their best agents, with highly developed martial arts skills and and straight aim with a pistol, but then fate whisked me off to Middle Earth. Here I don't know North from South, but I hope to God that my training will help me in a scrap.

Legolas turns around, his clear blue eyes piercing my own. "Are you tiring?" he asks me, his face betraying his concern.

I glare at him, brushing my pale blonde hair out of my face. "Of course I am not tiring. I am half Elven, you know."

He raises his eyebrow, then looks away from me and keeps walking without meeting my cutting gaze.

"I was not informed of that, Lady Saerinil."

"Gandalf told me." I lift my chin, daring him to contradict the wizard who is leading our group.

But to my great surprise, Legolas replies, "how would Gandalf know such a thing? You are not from this world."

I shrug nonchalantly as I walk, thankful that whatever Elvish blood is in me is keeping me from tripping over anything on this rough path. "Gandalf is… Gandalf. He's old and wise. He knows stuff." I feel as if I am trapped between my own Seattle dialect and my genetic Middle Earth tongue. The colloquialisms and turns of phrase can be quite different at times.

Gandalf turns around then, rather indignantly. "Lady Saerinil, you are quite right. I do, as you put it, simply 'know stuff.'" However I catch a glimmer of nervousness in his eye- the same fear that I saw in Lord Elrond. I have always had a gift for reading people. I cannot read their minds or anything so dramatic, but I am quite good at deducing their emotions from body language and facial expressions.

I toss my long, flowing hair over my shoulder haughtily, teasing the Elf in front of me. I note that it appears more silvery than gold in the bright light, and I hope it does not appear grey. But then, what should I care? It is only an Elf prince, after all.

Hmph. Darned paradoxes.

We take rest amongs large rocks, and I watch Merry and Pippin play with Boromir. I feel as if something is up with Boromir, but for the life of me, I can't place it. I hate not having my vast knowledge of the Tolkien to use on this quest, but I suppose that knowledge would drastically alter the course our tale is taking.

Then I notice a cloud taking shape; it is darker and more foreboding than the others. In fact, my lavender eyes make out soon that it does not look to be a cloud at all. Of course, Gimli believes otherwise, but on a quest to prevent the world from ending, plausible deniability isn't always on your side.

"How," I wonder aloud, "would you dismiss that as a cloud? Those are birds!" I'm shouting now, my smooth voice slipping up a pitch in panic. These birds are coming straight towards us.

"Crabein!" yells Legolas. Funny how _his _voice doesn't crack when it gets louder.

Gandalf then leaps from the rock, irritatingly agile for such an old man, and ducks beneath a nearby overhang. "Everyone hide!"

Legolas and I jump gracefully to the ground and crouch behind a cluster of bushes, but I cannot see whether everyone makes it to a hiding place in time.

"I fear for them," he whispers to me as the Crabein surround our camp.

"As do I." A wind starts up, and even in the bushes my hair is whipping around my face. I suddenly regret allowing it to flow past my waist.

Up close, I realize Legolas appears even more handsome. His hair is even lighter than mine, and a more silky silvery color with no hair out of place, and his eyes are strikingly blue- almost as wide and blue as Frodo's; all framed by a perfectly sclulpted face and jaw. I cannot decide whether to gawk or envy him from where I kneel, inches from his flawless skin. I can almost see a glow of energy around him. Each time I read his description in the book, I didn't comprehend how handsome he really was.

"My Lady?" He shakes my shoulder, and I snap out of my trance, hoping my cheeks aren't heating. But then, I generally do not blush- I don't even know if I am physically capable of it. I am embarassed to have been caught staring at him, but there is nothing I can say.

"Lady Saerinil, the crabein have gone." I nod uselessly and stand up, brushing the dirt out of my travel get up. I am thankful that I am the same size as Lady Arwen, or else I would have had nothing to wear on this quest.

Gimli grunts something to Legolas that sounds like, "Nice spot," but which I cannot make out exactly. It sounds rather grudging, however, and I suppress soft laughter.

"We had best be moving on," said Gandalf in a business-like tone. "But we cannot take the Gap of Rohan. We should make for Caradhras." He looks up at the snow-capped mountain looming over us. I can hear audible gulps coming from most of the Fellowship, but I don't mind the snow. Can't be much worse than winter in Seattle, can it?

As it turns out, the pass of Caradhras is indeed worse than winter in Seattle. Perhaps it is because I am wearing a soft Elven hunting overcoat for the journey, as well as thin boots with a lace design and tight, silvery pants. They fit my figure perfectly, but they are not terribly warm. Fortunately, however, my feet do not sink beneath the snow. They never have.

I walk behind Legolas overtop the snow, scouting out the path ahead while the others struggle, sinking up to their waists. It is painful work, for the snow roars and flurries in our faces, and the wind is howling overhead. My teeth begin to chatter- apparently being half Elvish doesn't protect you from the cold- and Legolas procures a thick Elven cloak that he wraps around my shoulders.

For a moment of jest, I nearly ask, _care to share? _but then my tongue thinks better of it. I have not known him for nearly long enough to make a joke like such. But I am quite grateful that he had such a cloak on him, although it is clear he wears it often. It bears his scent, of blooming flowers and sweet green forests dappled in sunlight. The smell wafts up my small, pointed nose and engulfs me, making me warm from head to toe.

"Thank you, mellon nin," I say gratefully. I have learned at least a _bit _of Sindarin while on this journey. Then I call back to the rest of the Fellowship, "It is safe to walk on!"

Gandalf nods in my direction through the blizzard, and he gestures forward. But just then, a massive chunk of rock and ice falls down on top of us.

I am buried in an instant, and I begin to paw through the snow on top of me. Then I feel a heat coming from my eyes and my body, and the snow surrounding me starts to melt. It's a strange feeling, as if I'm tingling all over, and when I look down my body is glowing in heat. But I touch my skin, and it feels no warmer than five minutes before. The snow continues to melt, hunks of slush tumbling down on either side of me until I can see the stormy sky.

_What is this? _My brain is whirring in confusion and bemusement. I reach up and poke my hand through the last layer of ice, but it melts at my touch.

_This is not normal. _Well, neither is getting pitched into Middle Earth, but now I have the feeling that even by Middle Earth standards, this is not normal. Heating things just by touching them? Not normal in Elves, either. As I climb out and begin to help the others scramble out of the sudden onslaught of snow, I wonder whether I should inform Gandalf. After all, he is the wisest of us. But then something comes to me. An image is called back into my mind. Gandalf watching me with a stern fear in his eyes.

I wonder, suddenly, if this has anything to do with my true heritage. They say I am half-Elf. But they did not tell me who my parents are. I am curious. Who could have birthed me that would provide me with Elven heritage and such powerful magic? It's an endless mystery.

"We cannot go further, Gandalf!" says Legolas with surety. "The road is too rough, and dark magic is falling over these mountains."

"Saruman wants us dead," Gandalf growled in response.

I run a hand through my silvery-blonde hair and focus my pale violet eyes on Legolas. "Where do we go?" I ask him, for my extensive Tolkien knowledge is still only a memory.

Gimli speaks up. "We must go to Moria."

But Gandalf is shaking his head. "We cannot go there." He has foreboding in his tone- great foreboding. I worry all of a sudden that no road is safe to travel on.

But Frodo is the most terrified of any of us. "Can we go through the mines?" he pleads. I can tell the cold is reaching him. I am still warm from my sudden surge of heat, that still causes anxiety in the back of my mind.

I shake it off, but I know what I must say, for I do not want to risk exposure of my newfound power. "We must take the mines," I whisper.

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_Thx so much to everyone who reviewed! You make my dull, dull day. And summer is coming, so I'll be updating more often than this! I'm so excited everyone XDXD keep the reviews flowing._


	3. Many Riddles

_OMG, guys! I can't believe i'm already three chapters in! This is so exciting. I can't wait to delve into the Legomance coming later- just a little teaser for the later chapters._

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Legolas never requests that I return his cloak to him, and I am grateful for his kindness, for the gates of Moria are cold with death, and even with his cloak wrapped around my shoulders, I shiver in the withering wind.

I have a sense of foreboding growing within me, and I try desperately to remember what happens in Moria while Gandalf tries desperately to remember the password to open the gate. I am standing over the water, watching entranced as the ripples meet the shoreline. I turn around as another figure steps silently up beside me.

"Legolas," I whisper. "Can you feel the darkness in the air?"

He dips his head. "I can, My Lady Saerinil, but there is no other route to take."

I laugh softly. "Just call me Saerinil." I don't understand all the formal titles in this world. They are far too long and complicated.

"As you wish."

He rests a hand on my shoulder. "Do you have the sword?"

Indeed, I do. Celestion hangs from my belt, a sword given to me by Lord Elrond before we left Rivendell. He tells me it once belonged to someone I should know, but for the life of me I can't remember the name of the sword ever popping up in conversation before Elrond gave it to me. My past has become a mysterious fog of trauma in the world I grew up in and unsolved puzzles in the world I have discovered.

"That blade shall serve you well," says Legolas confidently. I turn around, hearing a grumble, to find that Gandalf has given up guessing the password for his pipe and deep thought. I myself think back to the clue given over the door.

"Speak, friend, and enter," I whisper. Then it hits me. I've always had a talent for puzzles, my puzzling past stemming my desire to solve mysteries, and I realize in this instant that the inscription we're all studying is, in fact, a riddle.

I step up to the door and lay a hand on its cold stone, allowing the magic of being in Middle Earth to flood over my again for one beautiful instant. "Mellon," I murmur, and with a mighty crack and the awful screams of stone grinding on stone, the door slides open.

Gandalf sits up. "Lady Saerinil," he said. "I did not know you were familiar with Dwarvish riddles."

I shrug and lower my head at the sudden attention. "Not Dwarvish riddles in particular…" I mutter, more to myself than the group.

We round up our belongings and make for the entrance, but with a scream, I see out of the corner of my eye, Frodo vanish behind me into the water. Indeed, a single massive tentacle has reached out and snagged his ankle. Oh, how I wish to remember this part in the book. At least then I would have some idea as to how to kill the Watcher in the Water. Funny how I remember its name but not how to they finally got rid of it.

I draw my sword, and I see that beside me, Legolas is already loosing a couple of arrows with the speed of a falcon, and indeed with as sharp and beautiful eyes as one. In the dim light, I can barely make out the beautifully carved inscriptions on the blade, and as the Watcher in the Water comes toward us, I make a mental note to ask Gandalf about the inscriptions later on. Someday, my curiosity will be the death of me.

Aragorn rushes forward and stabs at the tentacle that is hanging Frodo in the air, and it drops the poor hobbit, who wades back to us in fear.

"Into the mines!" Gandalf shouts, but I can clearly see that the beast is coming at us. Then something wraps around my ankle, and I am suddenly throwing into the air, hanging over the massive mouth of what I can only assume to be some sort of Kraken. Merry and Pippin are also danging from the monster's massive suction cups, and I furiously swing my sword at the tentacle until it finds flesh. The beast drops me in pain, but I see myself falling toward is head.

A sudden burst of adrenaline rushes through me, and my sword erupts in blinding light as it touches the Watcher. I can feel flames beside me, but I can also feel the water erupting around me swirling and mixing with the flames. I fall into the raging lake and claw to the surface, searching for the Fellowship with my waterlogged vision.

Spotting Merry and Pipping flailing in the water, I grab them by their collars, thanking my strength from police training as I swim back to shore with one hobbit in each hand. They get to their feet, eyeing me suspiciously.

"What was that?" Merry asks me skeptically.

I wince, knowing now that the Fellowship have discovered my poower, that I mysef only discovered a few days before. I look at them sheepishly, and every single one of them is gaping at me. Except, of course, for Gandalf, who looks at me with a combination of anxiety and satisfaction, as if he had known all along.

But then he says ominously, "So it is confirmed. You are who I thought you were." He shakes his head slowly, the anxiety in his eyes turning to pain and something like fondness. Sometimes my gift of reading people seems more like a curse, as there are emotions that I feel I don't want to- or shouldn't- be reading. I knew Gandalf was fond of me, but I know now that he feels protective responsibility for my life. And it hurts to know, because I have a tendency of getting myself into outlandish situations.

"What do you mean?" I ask him, but he turns away. I look back, and the Watcher in the Water is floating dead on the surface, fires burning in the lake and the water as calm as before. I realize that I have killed the beast with my power.

I look down at my hands. Do I truly have the power to kill? I have always been a compassionate person. Now I fear my remarkable abilities, as if my mind is turning to beautiful, dark insanity with the coming of these powers.

"Why, Gandalf?" I call to him. He is walking into Moria, with the others following behind him. Legolas is just in front of me, and when he turns back I catch a glint of passion in his lovely blue eyes as they meet my silvery purple ones.

There is a silence in Moria, a stifling silence, that seeps into the nostrils with a decaying stench and wafts around the place, unaffected by an outside breeze. Behind us, the door seals shut. There is no turning back now, even with my sense of foreboding growing with every step.

And when Gandalf lights his staff, I find out why.

Bodies litter the stone, and I cover my mouth with my hand. I have never seen such gore, even with my older brother's violent video games. The corpses lie decaying and rotting together in one mass tomb that was once a thriving city.

I nearly gag, tears coming to my eyes, and I hardly feel the strong, comforting, muscular, lean arms wrap around my shoulders.

"Have you not seen death?" Legolas asks me, and suddenly I realize why they call him Captain Obvious.

I shake my head, however, too traumatized by the sight before me to respond verbally.

"You killed the Watcher," Legolas whispers. "You can carry on in this quest, Saerinil."

I nod through my tears and lift my head, and Legolas softly kisses my temple before turning away and beginning to walk up the stairs. I follow close behind him, still shaken by the bodies scattered around me.

Soon we come to a corridor, with many ways in or out. I sit down and rest my legs as Gandalf looks between our options.

"I have no memory of this place," he rumbles, pulling out his pipe. I groan quietly, wishing that I could remember these scenes from the book. There was a deep empty space in my heart where my extensive Tolkien knowledge once was, and it pained me to consider deeply.

So we all sit down quietly, waiting for Gandalf to remember the road, and try not to think about what happens if we are lost, when I remember the runes on my sword. Quietly, I make my way to Gandalf and kneel beside him, drawing my blade.

"Can you tell me what these mean?" I ask. He glances up at me briefly, then looks down at the sword.

His eyebrows shoot up in surprise. "Did Lord Elrond give you this?" he inquires, and I nod.

"Hmm," he rumbles, "I did not think Lord Elrond would remember this blade, much less the one who inherits it. Nor did I think he would believe it wise to give to you, Lady Saerinil."

"Why? What does it mean?" I am growing impatient now. "And who did this belong to?"

Gandalf lets out a low sigh. "I do not think it wise to tell you of this matter," he says wearily. "But you are giving me no choice. I shall not tell you all of it, for that is for you to learn later on. But I shall tell you some."

"Okay. I'm listening." I sit down on the rocky path, as Gandalf clears his throat.

"The words on this blade are Quenya. They translate to, _the defender of all peoples and the union of fire and ice. _It was forged during the first rise of Sauron. I cannot tell you who first bore this blade, for the pain is too near to my heart." His words a gruff, but laced with grief.

I raise my eyebrows in question, but Gandalf does not clarify his words. It's funny though, to picture Gandalf as a man with a painful past. I always assumed he was no different that he looks to me now. It did not occur to me that he could have old ties and old pains to bear with him through the years, like all of us do. And those pains could be deeper, given his great power and knowledge, if he was alive during the first rise of Sauron, and now the second. I am at a loss for words.

Finally, I speak up again. "What do the words really mean, though? And what about my magic that I stumbled upon earlier?"

The wizard shakes his grizzled head. "I do not know." But I can tell he is lying. He has a tie to those words that he does not wish to speak aloud. I vow then to find out what, for everyone sees fit to keep this from me.

I get up and, with a huff of dissatisfaction, stride over to where Legolas and Gimli are silently glaring at each other.

At the sight of me, Legolas turns from the Dwarf and widens his eyes as he sees the runes on my sword. "Did that sword come from Lord Elrond?" he looks into my violet eyes in awe.

"Yes," I answer solemnly.

"I have seen it before, in old tapestries, but I cannot remember where."

I look up at him to see him knit his brows together. "If you can recall," I say, "I would love to hear it. Because Gandalf was near to no help."

"What did he say?" The Elf looks curious.

"He told me the inscription meant, _to the defender of all peoples and the union of fire and ice. _Any ideas?"

"None. Are you feeling any better, Lady Saerinil?"

"Yes, thank you Legolas."

"You have become dear to us on this quest. Dear to me as well." I feel sparks in the pit of my stomach at his words. Something, if not something definite, has developed between me and the Mirkwood Prince. Legolas Greenleaf is intelligent, brave, kind, and courageous, with a loving heart that shows compassion to all. Even if he does sometimes state the obvious.

I realize now that my main flaw is how open I am to friendship and love. I want to love and be friends with all whom I meet, leaving me vulnerable to being hurt by others. I think sometimes that my excessive devotion to love and friendship and hope is what led me to such a traumatic past, for not everyone is open to reciprocating such love.

And thus I am conflicted, for I can see my developing feelings for the Elf sitting next to me in casual conversation, but I do not want to wear my heart on my sleeve.

"Are you all right, Saerinil?" Legolas asks me concernedly, but before I get the chance to answer him, Gandalf stands up.

"I have remembered the way. It is through this passage. I can smell the clearer air down this pass."

Recognizing my love for Legolas Greenleaf and deciphering my mysterious heritage will have to wait for later.

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_I hope you enjoyed this chapter! Plz review reviews make my day, and i love to hear people's thoughts. i'm so excited, and there will be a super big reveal soon to go along with the developing Legomance, but i'm going to keep you in the dark so I don't spoil the surprise!_


	4. The Magic of Fire and Ice

_Guys, we're at chapter 4 already! OMG. I did not think I would get this far in so little time. I'm so excited! PLZ read and review._

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We are circled around the tomb of Balin, the (former) lord of Moria. Gimli is weeping; a sight I never thought I would see in the little time I have known him. I watch the tomb, not knowing whether to grieve or wait. I did not know Balin, but his name rings a bell in my head. I remember him from reading _The Hobbit, _but his significance is lost on me.

"Legolas?" I ask, turning to the Elf.

"Yes, Lady Saerinil."

I correct him again. "It's just Saerinil. If you ever find something out about this sword," I hold up the blade, "and who it belongs to, and what the writing means, please tell me." My curiosity is overtaking me.

Legolas nods curtly. Then we hear them. The drums beat down rhythmically, echoing about the room. Gimli's expression morphs from grief to rage in half a second as the screams of orcs fill our ears.

"Crap," I mutter under my breath, the stress of the situation causing me to revert back to modern tongue.

Legolas smirks beside me. "Your first bloodshed," he says, elbowing me fondly. "Best of luck to you, Saerinil."

The orcs come pouring into the tomb, and behind them- because Fortune hates me- a cave troll. My sword is out before me, but then it begins to glow. It's blade flickers between red and silver, not the blue glow of Frodo's Elven sword but a magical glow which gives power to my hands. I strike an orc, and his flesh melts beneath the sword's touch.

Soon I am fighting like a natural. Nothing unlocks your true potential like fear of death, or so they say. My hair now looks a flowing silver, flying loose around me, my lavendar eyes glowing with fury.

I spin, my cape flaring out, and suddenly I see its flames. My cape is adorned in fire, although it does not melt. And when I strike the next orc, he burns. But though my cape is aflame by magic I realize I am standing on ice. All that I touch either melts or freezes. I hit an orc with my fist, and watch him drown as freezing water fills his lungs from the inside.

What is this new power?

I run about the battle still, striking things, and as my hair flows behind me I realise it too is aflame, but it flickers with white fire, like starlight. I start to fear myself then, wondering what other power I possess. I fly with my sword, fires blazing and ice and water at my fingertips.

Then I see Frodo.

He collapses against the wall, the great cave troll's spear embedded in his chest, and this scene from the book floods back to me. The troll itself is standing over him, black hatred in its eyes. I cannot explain the rage that welled up within me as I race toward the scene.

It lowers and arm, and I step on its hand, leaping to its shoulder and driving my blade in as deep as I can, and I can feel the fires flare up about me. The blade burns its flesh, and white flame and ice consume the beast until I can feel deep within me that death has come upon it. I leap off its back, and the troll collapses.

Silence ensues. The Fellowship stares at me, fearful wonder in their eyes.

"What, Lady Saerinil, are you?" Gimli inquires. Aragorn, realizing the peril that Frodo has fallen into, races to him, but stops short as Frodo coughs a bit, getting to his feet.

"Mithril," I whisper, catching a glimpse of the shiny armor beneath Frodo's shirt. "Of course. Bilbo gave it to you." I remember that now, for some reason.

"You," Aragorn says, supporting Frodo yet turning back to me, "have some explaining to do."

I hold my hands up in surrender. "I don't know where this magic comes from," I say softly. Then I point to Gandalf, remembering the fear in his eyes and his reluctance to give me answers. "Ask him. He should know. He's the real wizard, after all."

They all look at Gandalf, but he only shakes his head. "This knowledge is not for you yet," he says. "But Saerinil is a friend, not a foe."

I worry their fear of my power will drive them to isolate me, but they seem to accept it. Legolas comes over and lays a hand on my shoulder, after a moment's hesitation.

I laugh. "Don't worry; I'm not going to burn you."

"I guess we know what 'the union of fire and ice' means," he says with a slight smile.

"Yeah, I guess we do. Now all I want to know is why I have such power. And who knew, when they forged the sword, that I would?"

To this, he has no answer.

The cries of more goblins force us to move quickly, racing between the great pillars of Dwarrowdelf, until finally a deeper call is heard.

"Run faster!" Gandalf commands, and I know something older is now after us. A distant light- a harsh, cruel light- shines at our backs, and we quicken our pace without hesitation. The danger grows as we race towards the bridge. The stairs crack under our feet, and as we round a corner, the balrog leaps before us.

Don't ask me how I know it's a balrog. Like I said, my Tolkien knowledge is gone, except for random pieces of information like names and titles and, like right now, a sixth sense about when something bad will happen. It takes a step toward us, and Gandalf orders us to run again.

But I don't want to. I feel anger flare up inside me, a magical, fiery temper, and my hair turns as gold as the evening sky, glowing with furious light. The balrog rears up in front of me, and I swip at it with my sword. It takes a step forward, and suddenly I'm flying upwards, fire and ice warping around me and striking the great beast.

It slashes at me with its whip, but my sword catches the blow, and I'm shocked by my own strength to resist. My eyes turn from a soft, smooth purple to blue and electrifying, and waves of freezing water surge upwards to engulf the balrog.

I fall back to the stone, exhausted, and Gandalf grips my shoulder.

"Do not try to fight it," he hisses. "You are inexperienced with your magic. This foe is beyond you. You have to run! Follow Aragorn!"

I turn and flee, knowing that I have no other choice. Gandalf follows, although at a slower pace, and I can't help but worry he'll try to fight it. He seems to be as stubborn as I am in that sense.

We reach another set of stairs (why does Middle Earth never have hand rails?) and Aragorn leaps over the gap, followed by Legolas, until all of us have crossed. But then the platform begins to give out, and I can feel my legs sliding out from beneath me. "Legolas!" I call, for he has waited for the others and is the last person running. He spots me starting to fall and grips my arm, hauling me back up onto relatively stable ground.

"Saerinil," he addresses me. "Are you okay?"

I nod a bit, shaken by my brush with death.

He smirks a bit. "I thought you were graceful, being a half-Elf and all."

I punch him playfully in the shoulder, but then the balrog interrupts our repartee. "Run, Saerinil!" And I run, knowing that I'll likely get very angry if I am told one more time that I'm not good enough to fight the balrog.

We reach the bridge, but just barely. Gandalf stops in the center, allowing each one of us to pass before him. When I reach him, he grips my arm.

"Trust your instincts," he growls into my ear. "You have great power, and with great power comes great responsibility. Go to Lothlorien, and gain an audience with the Lady Galadriel. She will know the depth of your magic. Good luck, Maethrian."

I stop short. "What did you call me?"

"Go!"

I turn away and run in front of him, only to see that he has stopped to face the Balrog.

"No," I whisper under my breath. "Please, no." I try to run forward, to help him, but Legolas holds onto my arm.

"Let me go!" I scream at him. "Let me go!" But all I can do is watch. I try to concentrate my powers, even to burn him, hoping to make him let go, but I can't. I can't harm him.

_Why can't I harm Legolas? _I'm not ready to make myself answer that question. Then I watch as the balrog, with its last effort grabs ahold of Gandalf and drags him away. And everything around me blurs with tears.

I hear Frodo scream and weep and Aragorn shout orders. But I'm not listening. It's then that everything explodes. White lights sweep around me, and fires start to blaze. Rocks are coming down, and Legolas picks me up in my half conscious state, carrying me bridal style like I'm no weight at all. I've always been small, but that should not be possible.

I hair flows behind me, turning back to its silvery blonde color, and a trail of fire is in my wake.

When we meet the sunlight, I can still hear rocks collapse behind me. Legolas sets me down gently, kneeling over me as my consciousness returns, and I begin to weep.

"What happened?" I ask between heaving breaths and tears. I have never suffered the death of others. If I saw my parents, I can't remember them.

"You went crazy," Legolas answers me, and I can see the deep sorrow in his face, even though it's still beautiful. "You started to light everything up, and you were bringing the cave down. We were forced to flee."

"Gandalf said…" I choked out the words. "He said to go to Lothlorien. That Lady Galadriel could help me." Another familiar name that I could not put a face to. "He called me something. Maethrian. Do you know anyone by that name?" Even though my grief, curiosity won me over.

Legolas shook his head. "My father was not terribly diplomatic, and he never told me the stories of Lothlorien. For all I know the last true half-Elves are Lord Elrond and his family."

"And me," I say quietly

"But we do not know your heritage. Especially with your magic."

"What about Aragorn? He grew up around Elrond, and Elrond was the one who gave me my sword."

Legolas calls to the ranger, who approaches us quickly. "What, is Saerinil injured?" he inquires. I shake my head.

"I am not."

"Then we should get moving."

"Wait!" He looks at me. "Gandalf told me to go to Lothlorien. That we should all gain audience with the Lady Galadriel, and that she could help me to control my power. He also called me Maethrian."

"Warrior queen," said Legolas.

Aragorn takes in a breath. "I thought it was but a myth," he whispers.

"What was a myth?" I sit up straighter.

But he only shakes his head. "If Gandalf wanted you to know these things, he would have told you. Perhaps he wants Lady Galadriel to give you answers."

"No. You are telling me something." I grab ahold of his shirt and pull him close. "I'm sick of people dancing around my questions and blatantly pretending not to know what's up with all of this." My dialogue grows more modern with my irritation. "Just tell me what you know."

Aragorn tugs my hand off of him and gets to his feet. "As I said, Lady Saerinil, perhaps Galadriel will tell you."

"Who is Maethrian?" I yell to his back. "And what does she have to do with me?"

"Saerinil," Legolas calls me softly.

"What?" I snap irritably, tossing my waves of silvery hair over my shoulder.

"I think she _is _you."

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_Saerinil loves reviews, __guys!1! So happy that i finished this chapter. Oooh, i'm building up the tension. What will happen in Lothlorien? What does everyone know that they won't tell Saerinil? oh i'm so so excited for this. And i can't wait to get to the real legomance._


	5. The Secrets of Lady Galadriel

_OMG i cannot believe i'm already at chapter 5! this is so exciting! and it's really getting interesting now, as the mysteries start to unravel, and the legomance develops! squeeeeeeeeeeee!_

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We enter the woods of Lothlorien, and instantly a feeling of security washes over me. My hair, which had shone wispy silver in the endless darkness of Moria, glistens its golden blonde once more in the beautiful light. My eyes twinkle happily, reflecting the Elven lights dancing between the trees like wide violet sheets of glass. Energy flows back into my limbs and I nearly begin to dance gracefully among the trees. I do not know what could cause a place like Lothlorien to heal me, but I am grateful for it. Beside me, Legolas treads silently, his blue orbs staring into mine.

"I have never seen the wood of Lothlorien. It is as beautiful as the tales say," he says in a cheerful voice, his fingers brushing my own.

"Maethrian. It is a beautiful name," he tells me softly. We came to the conclusion earlier today that Maethrian was indeed my name, given to me at birth.

"Warrior queen," I whisper to myself, surprised by my own knowledge of Sindarin. The tongue of the Elves is ingrained in my blood. "I like it." Yet I still do not know where it comes from, and why I became Saerinil all those years ago. Saerinil Ithiliel. Is that my real name? Or is Maethrian my real name?

Aragorn walks behind us, taking in the sights. I get the feeling that he has been here before, as have I. I do not know this place, but it feels familiar to me, as if I have seen it in a dream, far in my broken past. I feel as if I have walked among these trees before and gazed at the stars above.

"Legolas?" I ask softly.

He turns to me. "Yes Saerinil?"

I am grateful that he uses my given name and not the name Gandalf called me before he died. I'm still not used to this idea that I'm an entirely different person than I had any idea I could be. "I think I have been to this forest before. It feels familiar… like home."

Legolas shakes his head. "Impossible." But almost as if to reassure me, he laces his fingers into mine. "It is a safe place," he says to me fondly, and I stare into his ethereally beautiful face. "Do not worry here."

But that is before I hear her voice.

_Maethrian,_ calls a soft whisper in my ears. It is not menacing, nor cold, but it feels… distant. Yet there is an emotion within it that I cannot place. It is strong, and I can feel it with my Elven senses. It calls me Maethrian. So that is my name.

"There is a voice." I lean closer to Legolas.

"It is the Lady Galadriel, welcoming you into the Golden Wood."

"But she calls me by that name. She calls me Maethrian."

_I know you from many years ago, Maethrian. You have returned to Middle Earth at last. You are powerful, but unsure. Do not worry. Do not fret. Happiness can be found even in the darkest of times, and not all power in this world is evil. _

The voice of Galadriel dies down, and my heart stops pounding. "She knows that name too," I whisper to Legolas.

"They are the Eldar," he explains calmly as I rest my head on his shoulder. "They are the wise. Of course they would know that name."

But I am not so sure that is the only reason. Elrond seems to know who I am, and Aragorn does as well. Aragorn is no Elf, however. He is not one of the Eldar.

I brush my hair down my back, allowing it to flow freely past my waist in beautiful golden waves. They are not curls, but they look as if I have left it in a braid for too long, and they sway in the soft wind. My eyes sparkle in the light once more, even as they reflect my sense of foreboding and fear. Their shade of violet turns lighter, more happy, as we walk deeper into the wood.

We walk further, until we find long, graceful bows pointed at us. An Elven guard steps out from the trees, and he looks us over one by one. He dips his head in respect when his eyes settle on Aragorn.

"Why have you come?" he demands.

"We seek shelter."

"You were the company that set out from Rivendell?"

Aragorn and Legolas nod in unison.

"You cannot turn back now, then." He opens his mouth as if to say something else, but then his eyes settle on me, and they widen in shock.

"That face," he whispers. "I know that face. It is familiar to me." He closes his eyes tightly, and when he opens them, he addresses me with respect and the slightest hint of fear. "You must speak with the Lady Galadriel. All of you. But this one-" his hand rests upon my shoulder, "must have a private audience." He looks at the sword hanging from my belt. "Yes," he says. "She must have a private audience."

The Fellowship seems so surprised by this that they do not say anything. They simply stare, although after a moment I think I can see Aragorn's eyes dawn in comprehension. Apparently he knows more of Elven politics than Legolas does, although I cannot blame Legolas for being trapped in his father's forest kingdom for centuries on end, learning nothing of the outside world aside from the occasional prisoner and entertainment for Thranduil's drinking and dancing parties.

Haldir and the rest of the guard lead us to Caras Galadhon. I do not know how I remember the name of the Elven Marchwarden, but it surfaces in my mind when I look at him. We follow him obediently as the trees grow larger, and everything becomes shrouded in beautiful mist and starlight.

This place begins to feel like a dream. My clothing feels lighter on my body as if I am wearing a feathery dress and stepping barefoot over the roots. I feel at peace here, as if this is my home. Indeed, memories hover in the back of my mind, only half-surfaced from years ago. I have been to this place when I was younger. When, I do not know.

We reach the central pavilion, and and Elf descends before us, dressed in the purest of white. I know right away that she is Lady Galadriel, although I cannot place where I know that from. I wish right now for the rest of my Tolkien knowledge to come back, but why I know what I do never occurs to me.

Her gaze rests upon the entire fellowship. "Welcome to Caras Galadhon," she says in a voice as cool as ice. Then her voice fades out slightly, and I can hear her whisper in my head.

_I have waited many years for your return, Saerinil Ithiliel, _she murmurs.

_But you called me Maethrian. _It is the only thing I can think to reply, and her gaze rests upon me.

_Indeed I did. But your name is Saerinil, is it not?_

I nod dumbly. I do not know what to say to this. Then her eyes lift and she looks upon the whole fellowship. A flicker of something crosses her face as she watches each one of us, and she seems to realize that one is missing.

"Tell me, what has become of the wizard, Gandalf?"

"My lady," Aragorn speaks up, "He fell in Moria, to a beast of fire and shadow. The Balrog. If it were not for him, we would all have perished."

She stops short, her eyes widening, and I wonder if she had forseen this or if Gandalf's death is entirely news to her. "He has passed, then," she says softly, taking a step backwards. For a moment something drifts across her face again, her neutral expression contorting into one of pained grief, but it returns so quickly that I cannot tell whether I imagined it or not. She composes herself, and dips her head.

"You will need rest, then. Tonight, you will sleep with peace, free from your sorrows. Lothlorien will shelter you for as long as you need."

She dismisses us, and we all turn to part, but I hear her voice inside my head once more.

_Saerinil Ithiliel, I must speak with you. You have questions, I presume?_

_Yes, My Lady. _

She smiles at me. _Let them be answered in time. _

I turn around, and she is sitting upon a small throne, another beside her. "Sit," she commands, and I wordlessly obey. I do not know what she will tell me, but I remember Gandalf telling me she could help to control my magic.

"You have many questions, Saerinil. They float in your mind, mingling with your grief at the wizard's passing."

I nod. "He was like a father to me."

"Indeed." Her eyes grow distant. "Indeed," she says again. "But I sense you would like to ask things of me."

I tuck my long, golden hair behind my shoulders and focus on Galadriel. "I want to know how I can control my power. I do not want to put my friends in harm's way because of it."

"Saerinil, you possess great power. I can teach you to control it, but to master it you must look inside yourself. Open your hand."

I open my hand.

"Now concentrate. Concentrate on fire, a great fire, burning across a barren landscape."

I do as she says. When I open my eyes, I am shocked to find a small flame flickering in my hand.

"What-" I begin to ask.

"You can control the elements of fire and water, Saerinil. You can do this at will by concentrating on each form. That is how you froze the troll. But I am no wizard, only an Elf."

"But… I'm a wizard?"

"You possess more power even than a wizard, Saerinil. Start with fire and water. All else may come later. With time and proper training, you will be strong indeed."

"How do you know all this?" My violet eyes are glowing with curiosity. "How _can _you know?" I reach to the hilt of my blade and pull it out. "It has something to do with this, I know it."

"It came back to you," Galadriel whispers, eyeing the blade with some form of awe. "I have not seen this sword in three thousand years."

"How do you-"

"I made this sword."

My jaw drops in shock.

"You made this?"

"Yes. I forged it with every intent of returning it to you, Saerinil. Do you know what the runes say?"

"To the defender of all peoples and the union of fire and ice."

She nods. "You are the union of fire and ice. You are the bridge between peoples."

"But _why?_" I can feel myself switch back into modern English from 19th Century Middle Earth tongue as I grow more exasperated. "Everyone is so cryptic with me! Why can I not know my own life? Who are my parents? Where do I come from? What does this whole sword mean, and why did you forge it for me?"

I'm waving my arms like crazy. Galadriel watches me with silence. "I knew your parents," she says softly. "I can tell you a bit, if you like. I was fond of them."

I stop and sit back down from my pacing, smoothing out my hair. "You… you can?"

"Yes."

"Tell me," I say eagerly, and she smiles.

"It was the first rise of Sauron, three thousand years ago. They were of different races. Your mother was Elvish, of a great bloodline of Elves, in fact, and your father was… well I'm not quite sure exactly. He was a rare man, a traveler of the times. They were young and in love, but no bond of Elves or Men could marry them. The times were dark, Saerinil. Sauron was growing in power, and your parents were part of the resistance, brave and strong. None knew of their love for each other, for it would be too dangerous to speak of aloud. You were conceived the very night before the final battle, with the despair and desperation of folk who knew they were doomed and would never see each other again. But they survived the battle.

"When you were born, your power was too great. Gondor was becoming poisonous with the corruption of the One Ring, and the conception of such power would bring fear to the kings of Middle Earth. You were not safe in this world. Your parents, who had given you the name Maerthrian, a warrior queen, then called you Saerinil Ithiliel and sent you to another world to keep you safe.

"Three thousand years passed, and as Sauron rises again, Middle Earth needs your power to help counter him. Gandalf summoned you back for a reason, Saerinil. Middle Earth needs you. We cannot stand alone."

"How…" I whisper, dumbstruck. "How do you know all this?"

"Your parents… they were friends of mine. Very good friends in the past."

"But if no one knew I was born… how come everyone is afraid of me? How come everyone knows who I am?"

"You're curious," says Galadriel with a smile. "I like that about you." She pauses for a moment. "Some secrets cannot stay hidden forever, Saerinil. Only a few know who your parents were. Those few are still alive today."

"Lord Elrond. Gandalf. Do they know?"

She nods. "Indeed they do. But they are the only few."

"Why can't you tell me?"

"Right now you would be in far too much danger if you knew the truth."

I am entirely sick of people telling me I will be in danger, but I know better than to argue with Galadriel. She has an air of finality now, and I know the conversation is over."

"Saerinil," she calls as I leave, and I turn around, hiding my exasperation.

"Do not worry. You will find out on your own, soon enough, I think. You are wise." And with that she stands up and strides away into the trees, vanishing from sight.

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_i hope you enjoyed this! be sure to review plz plz plz i need reviews to brighten my day!_


	6. The Noble Fall of Boromir

_OMG guys! this chapter made me so sad! and so happy at the same time, OMG i don't know what to say. i got so emotional writing this whole thing! i hope you enjoy!_

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We leave the very next day, in a hurry. As I gather my things, I talk to Legolas, who is packing beside me.

"She said they were of different races. Do you know any of the legends and folk of the first rise of Sauron?"

Legolas nods. "I do know of the legends, but I can't conjure to mind any people of that time who could be your parents. They seem to be relatively unknown to legend and lore."

"That, or just really good a covering their tracks."

He grins at me. "Maybe that's why you are so clever, Lady Saerinil."

I huff a bit. "I've told you before; just call me Saerinil." I sling my travelling sack over my shoulder and begin to braid my long, golden hair. "Better get this mane out of my way."

He chuckles, standing only inches from me, and laces my fingers in his. "Put the mystery of your parents out of your mind. Now, is there anything else you would like to ask me?" He says it teasingly, but his words call to mind something I had noted earlier, during our first conversation with Galadriel. I have always been observant, with the unfortunate gift of subconscious deduction skills. I understand people, although I'm not quite sure if it's a gift or a curse.

"When we said that Gandalf had died, Galadriel… she seemed quite sad. Did they know each other?"

"They did," says Legolas. "They have been friends for ages. It was Galadriel who began the White Council, intending to place Gandalf at head. When Saruman betrayed us, I recall she mentioned her opinion in the beginning, before she was outvoted and Saruman placed at head. It was her way of saying, 'if I had been in charge, we wouldn't be in this mess.'"

I smirk. "Yes I'm very familiar with hidden meanings in people's words. I do that quite often myself."

"Indeed, you remind me a bit of the Lady Galadriel. I suspect your Elvish blood traces back to one who lived in this forest under Galadriel's fair rule."

"As if that narrows it down," I say with a humorless smile, my wide eyes clouding slightly until they were a misty lavendar-grey.

Legolas wraps his arm around my shoulders. "As I said, do not worry about your heritage, Saerinil. Worry about the present."

Of course, that was not easily said. My greatest flaw is my tenacity. I never give up, even when things are hopeless and it is best for me to move on to something else.

We walk hand in hand to the riverside, where three boats are waiting for us. The Elves of Lothlorien are gathered around, each holding up a lantern with beautiful white light glowing from it. I cannot help but search the faces for one which I can call familiar. Legolas's prediction that my mother was an Elf of Lothlorien has gotten to me and I hope, without luck, to find a face that matches my own. Someone who resembles me in appearance. But there are none which stand out, and disappointment involuntarily wells up inside me.

Galadriel offers gifts to each member of the Fellowship, wishing us luck on our journey. She gives me a chain, with a small pendant at the bottom.

"You will find it helpful," she says quietly. "Best of luck on your quests- for for yourself and for all of Middle Earth."

I dip my head in thanks, climbing into a boat between Legolas and Frodo. Frodo looks over his shoulder at me, and I can see the fear in his eyes of leaving Lothlorien. I know that he has seen his possible futures in the mirror of Galadriel, and I feel sorry for his pain. I can empathize with others easily over loss. I have lost much myself, after all.

"You will find it helpful?" My head is spinning. "That's it? No explanation?"

"Maybe it's just a gift, Saerinil," says Legolas, handing me ah oar. "An heirloom to pass on or something like that. Perhaps it has nothing to do with your parents. Maybe it's just a necklace."

"No," I insist. "I can feel it has power."

"Perhaps it is a tool in harnessing your magic?"

I consider that possibility. It's probably more likely than anything else I've managed to come up with so far. I clutch the pendant to my chest, and it glows with a beautiful white light.

Legolas gasps. "It moonlight," he whispers. "To guide us on our journey. The Lady Galadriel sees much that is hidden."

He leans over Frodo and kisses my cheek, and I can feel the blush creep into my creamy pale face. My violet eyes sparkle happily.

We set up camp on the West side of the Anduin, and that is when we hear the distant horn. It is the crude horn of a hundred urukhai, and Legolas's ears flick nervously.

"Where is Frodo?" he whispers. "And where is Boromir?"

My blood runs cold. I remember this scene. Not all of it- I cannot remember what happens when the urukhai attack, only that they do attack, and something terrible happens. This battle does not go well.

"Legolas," I hiss, "We have to get to them. They are not safe."

"But the horn- is it not on the East side of the river?"

"No. These are urukhai, sent by Saruman. That is all I know of them, but they will find us."

"Are you sure?"

I smack his shoulder. "Yes, I'm sure!" Quietly, I draw my sword only to find that it bears a soft blue glow. My power starts to well up inside me in a great surge. I narrow my eyes, and suddenly I can see everything. The Uruks appear as heat signatures, and I can pick out every one of them like a hawk. I run toward them, targeting the first one I see, and drive my sword into his armor. He falls back after a single stroke, and suddenly my hands are blazing with fire.

The flames explode, writhing like a snake and curling around the urukhai, burning them and striking them like a great tongue. Then a great wave rises up from behind me, surging around me and crashing into the great orcs, drowning them where they stand.

This is crazy, I think to myself, my hair lighting with a blue glow and my eyes sparkling the brightest violet. My armor and battle garb flicker, sometimes as they are and sometimes a beautiful blue robe and cloak that clings to me and flows with my hair in the wind.

I can take out a whole army at once.

But when I hear the horn of Gondor, I know that there are others who have escaped my wrath. The tidal wave follows me although my hands are still aflame despite how cool they feel, as I race to save Boromir.

It all comes flooding back, then, pun not intended. I know that Boromir will meet a terrible fate, although I hope that perhaps I will come in time to save him. But I remember then the three arrows that pierce his chest, the world slowing around him while he heroically fights to save Merry and Pippin even though he has failed to protect Frodo from his own desire.

My cloak, still glowing, flows behind me, my hair flying gold and silver in the breeze.

"I will rescue you," I murmur, but as I come over the hill, I realize that I am too late. Boromir is on the ground, and Aragorn is dueling the lead Uruk. In a flash, I direct the fire in my hands as the great wave subsides, and it laps at the Uruk. Then the water rises again, and he drowns quickly. Aragorn stands by me, panting.

"Thanks," he says with a small smile.

I grin back. "Anytime." I go to stand by Legolas, who's expression is one of deep sorrow. I myself am not sure what to think. I wasn't exactly close to Boromir, and I didn't exactly trust him, but he was a brave man. Although to me, I know his death is necessary for the plot. I don't know why I know that, but I am sure of it.

"He was courageous," I assure Legolas, and kiss his cheek. Then, all of a sudden, he leans down and captures my lips, pulling me in and holding me softly by my waist. My cloak billows around us, my hair tumbling down my shoulders.

We pull away, gasping for air. It is the most beautiful kiss I have ever experienced, not to say I've kissed a great many men before. But this… it was magical.

"You are so beautiful, Saerinil," he whispers. I look over my shoulder to find Aragorn smiling at us, and he pats his friend on the shoulder.

"I knew we would see that eventually," he says kindly. "You take care of each other, both of you. That's what love is for." I can see the wistfulness in his eyes, knowing that he might never see Arwen again. I feel bad for the poor guy. True love is not a force to be trifled with.

We meet by the boats, only to realize that Frodo and Sam have continued without us. But that is all right. I know that we are missing our other hobbits, and that they will be taken to Isengard to be tortured.

"We are still united," I insist. "We have not failed until the ring is in Sauron's hands. Let us hunt the Urukhai that still remain."

Legolas drag's a silver boat into the water and we bear Boromir's body into it.

I pause. "Shall I sing a farewell tune?" I ask them, my head hanging modestly. And so I sing, and the sound carries for miles, for I hope that all who ever knew Boromir in life hear the song of his praises in death. Gondor should know that their steward's eldest son died nobly.

Legolas joins me, his voice ringing beautifully in an everlasting harmony.

"May we see him someday in the halls of Mandos," he whispers into my ear, and we stand there, arm in arm.

Then, at the most inconvenient of times, something occurs to me.

"I know," I murmur.

"You know what?" asks Legolas.

"I think I know what some of those riddles on my sword mean. And I think I know who my parents could be. Or at least my father."

"How do you know?"

"The source of my power. I have to think this through, Legolas."

"Your father."

"Yes. I think I know who my father is."

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_plz review and give me concrit and tell me what you think! i love hearing what you guys have to say youre all the best! ;););) and what did you think of the kiss?_


	7. The Secrets Revealed

_Hi everyone! big reveal in this chapter, and i'm so excited to get to it! and more legomance *squeeeeeee* leggy is so sweet in this chapter. i hope you guys enjoy and thanks so much for all your wonderful reviews and advice! i 3 all of you!_

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We lay down on the plains, breathing heavily. We rushed off after Boromir's death to track the urukhai who had taken Merry and Pippin, and have only just settled down for the night. I have been pondering over a possible realization the entire afternoon, and asked Legolas to wait until nightfall before I explained things to him. I do not know why, but I am not quite ready for the others to know what I just riddled out.

"Legolas?" I whisper, looking down at the silent form next to me. "Are you awake?"

He sits up, his eyes a more beautiful blue than ever in the dying light. "Elves do not sleep, Saerinil. You should know that."

"I'm only half Elven," I correct him, looking down as my hair began to shimmer in the moonlight. It is so pale at times that it will glow in the light of the new moon.

"But you must sleep less than most humans."

"Yes," I murmur, "yes I do."

"What did you want to tell me, meleth nin?" he whispers through the expanding darkness. "You said you had possibly figured out who your father is. I believed I was perhaps a Ranger descended from a bloodline who possessed some degree of Elven magic that was passed on to you for unknown reasons."

"No," I say. "No, Elves do not possess the type of magic that channeled throug my blood. But Legolas, I have a theory. Perhaps you can answer it for me."

Legolas shakes his head. "I doubt it. The Elves of Mirkwood are rather cut off from outside events. I wish Gandalf were here. He knows the truth."

"Was he around?" I ask nonchalantly, "during the first War of the Ring?"

Legolas nods. "I have heard my father tell stories of his skill during that war. He was younger, though, much younger. He was not old and gray, but strong and just as courageous. He was not unlike Aragorn, though perhaps without prophecies hanging over his head."

"Legolas, tell me if I am correct. Is Gandalf a ringbearer?"

"Yes, Saerinil. He bears Narya, the ring of fire. You heard his words on the bridge of Khazad-dum."

I am silent. Puzzle pieces are clicking together perfectly.

"What do they say about the power of those rings?"

Legolas seems a bit confused as to why I am asking him about the magic rings, but he answers anyway. "It is said that they bind themselves to their bearers. Gandalf not only possesses the power of a wizard, but now the power of a ring of fire."

I grin cheekily at him, my moonlit hair falling about my shoulders. "You said you did not know a great deal of history."

Legolas smiles back at me, giving me a chaste kiss. "There is a great difference between lore and history, meleth nin."

I wrap my arms around his neck, very easily sidetracked from the quest of my heritage, and kiss my Elf soundly. He is extraordinarily strong, for being so lean. When we part for air, I force myself to pull away and regain my senses. I was in the middle of riddling out a mystery, when my love for this Elf so rudely interrupted my train of thought.

I look up into his glowing blue orbs. "How long as Gandalf possessed Narya?"

"Since the first War of the Ring. Why are you asking me these questions? They seem rather irrelevant."

"The riddle on my sword said, _to the defender of all peoples and the union of fire and ice. _Clearly I am expected to use my power to defend Middle Earth from Saruon, so my parents knew I would have such gifts. But I wondered a lot.. the daughter of fire and ice? Tell me more about the power of the Elven rings."

"It is told that they give the will to govern their race, but because leaders change, and ringbearers are bound to their rings, that legend was dismissed. But sometimes the power of a ring could pass to the leader's descendants." His eyes grow wide with realization. "Do you truly think that…"

I nod. "I believe that Gandalf the Grey is my father. I am told that I was born in the first war with Sauron, when Gandalf was young and strong. I am the daughter of fire and ice, and Gandalf wields Narya, the ring of fire."

"Your parents were of different races; they never married."

"I know that. Did Gandalf ever marry?"

"No."

"He called me Maethrian. He was the one to fetch me from my home, and he has watched over me on this quest and kept me safe."

Legolas lay a hand on his forehead. "Your logic has my head spinning. The daughter of Gandalf Greyhame? Even now that he has passed, your power must be extraordinary. Not to mention that you possess Elven magic as well."

Then he stopped. "But there is no ring of ice."

The realization hits me, and my heart sinks. Not that I was pleased that I could be the daughter of a wizard who has died- although it would be admittedly wonderful to know who my father is and to know I was fond of him- but I was so close to figuring it out. My hopes are dashed.

"You're right," I say, "but it made so much sense."

"Perhaps the ice refers to something besides a ring. Perhaps it refers to your mother's demeanor."

I look Legolas straight in the eye. "Most Elves are icy when you first meet them, Legolas."

He appears rather taken aback. "Even me?" he jokes, his clear blue eyes glowing warmly as he teases me.

"You were rather blank when I first met you. And you seemed a bit shocked when I awoke."

"I knew you were powerful from the very beginning."

"Sure you did," I say with a laugh and kiss him again.

"Maybe you should do what you did last time you hit a dead end. Put this out of your mind for the time being, and come back to it later. You could have another epiphany."

"But my last epiphany was wrong."

Legolas smiles at me, and it is the most beautiful smile I have ever seen. "We don't know that. The notion that Gandalf is your father makes a great deal of sense. But we can never know the full answer until understand the riddle as a whole."

"I guess you're right," I say with a yawn. "I'm exhausted."

"Sleep," he instructs me. "I will keep you safe."

"I'm an elf. I don't sleep."

"Half Elf, actually," Legolas corrects. "Sleep," he whispers into my ear, and I find myself drifting off…

I awake in a world I can only assume is my dream. I am standing atop a cliff, overlooking a churning battleground. Mount Doom rises in the background, spitting fire, and Sauron walks across the battlefield, taking out hoards of armies in the process.

I look at the edge of the cliffside. Two figures stand upon the edge, arms wrapped tightly around each other. I find that despite the distance, I can see them quite well, and I can hear what they are saying. Apparently my newfound Elvish senses work in dreams as well.

I look closely at the man's face. It is familiar to me, and in a moment, I realize it is Gandalf. But he is young, his hair not much different from that of Aragorn. His long beard is short and brown, but his eyes bear the same sparkle.

I cannot see the face of the other figure, but I know it is a woman, and I see the tips of Elvish ears peeking out from her hood. They are speaking urgently.

"You must go back!" Gandalf insists, looking over at the battle, then back to the woman's face. "You must protect yourself!"

"I am not incapable, Mithrandir!" comes the adamant reply. I know that name is the Elvish name for Gandalf. All the Elves call him such. "I am powerful as well! Who will protect you when your magic fails? Who will protect you from Sauron."

"Even you, my love, cannot contend with the will of Sauron."

Even from here I can tell a humorless smile graces her lips. "I cannot contend with his will. But I can defy it."

"He wants us. He wants us dead; I don't know why. Only now do I feel his hatred upon us. There is some power he wants with us."

I gasp, from where I am standing, because I can understand what they do not. The power that they want is me. I was conceived the night before a final battle, and it was said that I had power beyond anything Middle Earth had seen born into a single babe.

So it is true. Gandalf is my father. But who? Who is my mother? I cannot see the face, but her voice rings familiarly in my head. I feel as if I have heard it before. Her grey cloak flaps in the wind and I want to beg her not to fight, even though I know she will. I know she will survive, and I know that I will too. But even if this is a dream, it feels too real.

"Go back," he pleads, with a hand on her shoulder. I can see the Ring of Fire wrapped around his finger as he embraces my mother. "Please go back. I could not bear to watch you die."

"I could not bear to live if you died and I knew there was nothing I could do. We always fight with the risk of death, but why should that stop us?" Her words were hard and encouraging. "We have burdens on our shoulders and power to live up to. But why should that hinder our decisions and our courage? Fight with me, Mithrandir. Fight beside me until the very end."

"As long as we are living," he says in the same gruff voice that I know, but it is more youthful, with more energy and stronger emotion. Great pain and love are thick in his words. "We fight beside each other."

She waves her hand, and I catch something in the corner of my eye. A glint of white and silver. Then a great eagle cries out and swoops below them, and with one final, lingering kiss, they leap onto its back and disappear into the night.

I wake with a start, the dawn light seeping over the plains. Beside me, Legolas is still sitting quietly, and, catching my panicked expression, lays a hand on my shoulder.

"I know something," I whisper urgently. "Something new."

He grins. "See? Each time you put the matter to rest and get some rest yourself, good things come of it."

"No, it wasn't rest. I had a dream. I saw my parents, and Legolas you were right. Gandalf is my father. The daughter of fire and ice refers to Narya."

"Then who is your mother, Saerinil?" His voice is genuinely curious. "We know that there is no ring of ice."

"It wasn't ice," I answer him. "It was never ice; that was just… well I don't know what it was for. It was either for poetic value or to throw people off. Fire and ice are opposites, and so it only makes sense that I am the daughter of two people of different races. It was just a diversion, the referrence of ice. It was never ice at all."

"So what-"

I grit my teeth. "She lied to me."

"Saerinil, what-"

"Well she didn't lie, exactly, so much as stretch the truth beyond recognition. She's good with words after all. That's where I inherit it from. But I saw it- that ring. I saw it in my dream."

"Saerinil, what are you talking about?" Legolas's voice takes on an exasperated tone. "What lie?"

"My mother- she threw me off the tracks. She offered me a riddle disguised as an explanation. She lied to me. There is no ring of ice, but ice is another form of something else. Of water."

"What are you saying, Saerinil?" His eyes grow wide.

I hiss again. "She lied to me."

"I thought you said-"

"My own _mother _couldn't bear the strength to tell me the truth." I can feel tears of anger begin to sting my eyes, and Legolas wraps his arms around me as the tears come spilling out. He rocks me softly in his arms, caressing my long, golden-silver hair that I now know so strongly resembles my mother's. I tremble a bit, biting my tongue as the information keeps pouring in.

"Who lied to you, Meleth nin?" Legolas whispers into my ear.

"Galadriel."

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_ooh twist! bet you didn't see that coming :D:D i've been waiting to reveal that for so long! it's been in my vault of favorite fanfic secrets! review please, with anything ;););) plz_


	8. Gandalf Returns

_OMG i'm back! it's been like forever since i last updated i'm so sorry! i've been super busy. this chapter is a little shorter than normal because of it. also, IMPORTANT NOTICE: in this fic we're pretending that the elf who was galadriel's husband in the books just doesn't exist. i forgot to mention that last chapter in my a/n, sorry. also, her daughter who married elrond doesn't exist either. this fic is already AU so they're just not in the story._

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I am pissed, to sum it up. I _asked _the Lady of Light to tell me the story of my parents. And she made one up.

Well, maybe she didn't. She _told _me the story truthfully but very obviously neglected to inform me that she is, in fact, my mother, and that _Gandalf _is my father.

Which sends the classic wince of awkwardness crawling into my shoulders.

"Legolas, why hide the truth?" I ask him for the hundredth time, as we walk side by side through the plains of Rohan. "_Why _would she hide that from me? Why would Gandalf hide that from me? I mean obviously they believed it best that I either figure it out myself or not know at all, but _why_?"

"Saerinil, think. Everything about you- your fake name, the riddle on your sword, it all points to the idea of leading people in the wrong direction regarding your heritage. You are a very powerful weapon in a very dangerous war. It was to protect you from the forces of darkness. Now that you know who you are, you can harness your power. Sauron would want that power as a weapon for himself. Better you were shielded, not knowing the extend of your magic, so that Sauron would not hunt for you."

I sigh quietly. "I know. I understand. It just kind of _hurts _knowing that they lied to me."

"Did you ever think to look at that necklace Lady Galadriel gave to you?"

I shake my head. "No. I kind of figured that wearing it would help me control my power. And that's all it is."

"What if it's more?"

But before I can answer, we are ambushed by fifty men on horses. They surround us, and I recognize them as the Rohirrim. I'm not quite sure how I know that, except once more I hate that my mind is wiped of all my knowledge of Tolkien's books, except for names and places.

"Eomer." I step forward, and he dismounts his horse.

"How do you know who I am?" Legolas steps protectively in front of me, but I push him lightly to the side, wanting to hold my own ground.

I say nothing, waiting for Aragorn to speak up.

"We are the company of Gandalf Greyhame. I am Aragorn, son of Arathorn. We are hunting a pack of urukhai across the plains, to retrieve two hobbits from their grasp."

Eomer bows his head. "Then I am sorry for your loss. We slaughtered the orcs and burned their carcasses. You may search for them, but I doubt you will find your friends."

He brings up two horses, offering them to us as a form of remorse. "May these horses guide you to better fortune than their former masters."

I remember this scene from the book. Something happens- a turn for the better, but I cannot put my finger on what.

Aragorn and Gimli mount one horse, and I mount the other behind Legolas, riding toward the carcass pile.

"I need to speak with Galadriel, when this is all over. I have a bone to pick with her, and while I doubt I'll get an apology or a real explanation, there aren't a great deal more half-truths she can tell me that I won't see for what they are."

Legolas says nothing, patiently listening to me vent my emotions, the shock of all this new information still soaking in. But still, behind that, there is a sense of surety. There is that little part of me that I ignored that suspected all along.

"There was something Galadriel said to me. 'Right now you would be in far too much danger if you knew the truth.' That was her excuse for not giving me the names. Do you think that was her way of saying 'I totally made the whole thing about your parents being friends of mine to get you off my case?'"

"No, I think that she was honest with you. You are in grave danger. If the urukhai find you, you will be taken to Sauron."

"Joy," I mutter bitterly, about to say something else, but the words die on my tongue as I see the heap of corpses smoking in front of us.

"There is no way they could have survived," I whisper, tears forming in my eyes, and Legolas draws me close. "They must have died."

Aragorn dismounts, but as he makes to vent his sorrow, drawing his sword and sticking it in the ground, his eyes catch another Elvish pin left on the ground, and he begins to follow a trail. I myself have little to no experience with tracking on such ground as this.

Then he stops before the entrance to Fangorn. Gimli gulps. "Are we going in there?"

I meet his eyes. "We must."

And so we walk into Fangorn. The trees are old, and I feel connected to them, as if they can speak with me. I place my hand on the trunk.

"It's an old forest," murmurs Legolas beside me, brushing a kiss to my cheek. "Can you feel the trees, reacting to your presence? They feel your power."

"It must remind you a little bit of home," I whisper back. "Back in the Greenwood."

"Somewhat," he says sadly. Then his ears perk.

"What is it?"

"Something… or someone… is following us."

I draw my sword, Celestion, watching the trees around us. The others do the same, feeling a presence draw near through the thick, old trees, their bark carved and cracked like words written into stone.

There is a flash of white light, blinding us for a moment, and then a familiar figure appears.

"Can it be?"

Book memories fill my mind, and I know in an instant who has returned to us.

"Gandalf," says Legolas, as the light fades. "Can it be?" There is he is, standing before us as if he never fell into the darkness of Khazad-dum. His gaze traces over the remaining members of the fellowship until they come to rest on me.

His eyes soften, in what appears to be some sort of silent apology.

"Maethrian," he addresses me this time. "Is the past behind you now?"

I shrug, still surprised by his reappearance. "I'm more angry at Galadriel for lying to me." My eyes are hard, traces of a grudge still flecking their clear violet. "I want to talk later," I say hardly.

He dips his head. "How are you here? And so powerful?" asks Aragorn, his eyes wide with shock.

"It was not yet my time to depart. The eagles found me when I killed the balrog, and brought me to Lothlorien, where I was healed."

So Galadriel had saved him? Guilt, probably. Maybe my mind is delving into its more cynical side, but I don't care right now.

"We will rest in Fangorn for now. But tomorrow we will ride to Rohan, now that I can assure you that Merry and Pippin are safe."

"Aragorn, search the perimeter. Legolas and Gimli will round up your horses. There are some things I need to discuss with Saerinil."

They wander off, Legolas somewhat reluctant to leave my side. As soon as they are out of earshot, Gandalf turns to me.

"I am sorry for not telling you the truth," he says sincerely. "But I worried that once you knew, Sauron could access that information as well. And I am sorry for the… stretched, truth that was fed to you in Lothlorien. We made an agreement, before we sent you to another world, that there were things you could not know until the right time."

"Well what _is _the true story?"

He chuckles. "I was not always an old man, you know. During the first War of the Ring, I was young and strong, not unlike Aragorn, though far more powerful."

"That's reassuring."

"It was remarkable that you survived your first year of life. Even with Sauron defeated, there were still orcs running loose and danger lurking at every corner in the aftermath of war. That was when we made the decision to send you to Earth, where you would grow up and be safe. You are three thousand years old in Middle Earth years, but only twenty four years old in True Earth years. It is rather complex."

"No kidding," I grumble.

"Maethrian, these secrets were only witheld from you for your protection."

"So I've been told. But if I'd known about this power, I could have done so much more to help on this journey! I could have saved you!"

He chuckles. "Well, Maethrian, if you had saved me, I would not be with you now. Everything happens for a reason."

I sigh. "Why didn't she tell me the truth?" He knew exactly who I was talking about.

"She believed it would be best if you found out on your own. But she did tell you a story. I don't think she ever could resist a good story to tell, and I think the guilt of allowing you to slowly unlock your power without any sort of information or assistance finally tore through. She had to tell you something, but she could not tell you the whole truth."

"Well that's somewhat reassuring."

"Will you forgive her?"

"I'm still deciding that." I pull back my hair, knotting it into a long, flowing braid.

"Maethrien, you two are so alike. So stubborn and determinted to follow your own paths. You will grow to have her wisdom, when this war is over. You will understand why you've been kept in the dark all this time."

"Gandalf," I sigh, "What am I doing here?"

"I asked myself the same think, when I was young."

"Why are you no longer young, while the Lady Galadriel does not age?"

"When we return to Valinor, the years will peel away, and all will be as it was three thousand years ago save that there will be peace, but for now I have the guise of an old wizard."

"Is that why you could never marry?"

"Partly, but the union of so much power, especially in the age of the rings, was also advised against. Too dangerous. You must understand that your birth was kept a secret to all but Lord Elrond, who is your godfather. This secret must be kept, until Sauron is defeated. No one knows who they can trust in this age."

He falls silent as Aragorn and Legolas return, Gimli grumbling behind them, and when he speaks again, his voice is low. "And those who you trust could easily be frightened of you."

"But Legolas knows the truth. He helped me figure it out."

"If he does not fear you, Maethrien, then Legolas loves you. Be proud you have earned the heart and trust of the Prince of Mirkwood. Sindarin Elves do not offer that love easily, nor without reason."

I dip my head. I am reassured, slightly. But still my resentment towards Galadriel for lying to me remains. I am not as angry at Gandalf, for he has not offered me any information until now. And now he is giving me the whole truth. Galadriel tried to feed me half-truths, and even if it is for my protection, and even if she does love me enough to try and tell me a story, I don't like it when people aren't entirely honest with me. I am always honest with them.

Well, up until now.

I look at Aragorn and Gimli. Neither of them know entirely of my heritage. Aragorn probably suspects that I am the daughter of someone powerful, probably even that I am the daugher of Gandalf, but he doesn't know the whole truth. He doesn't know who my mother is; after all, there were many powerful Elves alive in the First Age.

And it looks like I can't tell them all I know yet. I will have to settle for exchanging true emotions with none but Legolas. And if nothing else is sure, my love for the Mirkwood prince is to be the constant in my life.

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_review plz! i missed having reviews to read while i was gone, and i will give you lembas bread for reviewing!1 _


	9. Battle at Helm's Deep

_i'm back after a long break ;) this chapter was hard to write because of all the drama that happens in it, and the battle. i'm not going to give anything away, but there's a big twist ending too! also I took out the ambush on the way to helm's deep that happens in the book because there wasn't enough room for it here. but anyways, i hope you enjoy reading this as much as i like writing it ;););) and enter the legomance!_

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We reach Rohan quickly, and Gandalf expels Saruman's poison from King Theoden. Meduseld is beautiful, but soon we find ourselves ordered to leave, and Gandalf is riding off into the horizon once again.

He has a habit, I've noticed, of leaving us in the dark while he runs off on his solo missions. I'm not sure to be angry at him or relieved that I'm saved the awkwardness of conversing with him while we walk to Helm's Deep.

"You are half-Elven?" Eowyn asks me curiously, as we stride side by side through the plains. Helm's Deep is in sight in the distance, but we still have miles to go.

"Indeed, I am."

"But I read in the Meduseld libraries that the only known half-Elf was Lord Elrond."

"Well…" I scratched the back of my neck, tucking a strand of thick, golden-silver hair into the messy bun I tied it in earlier. "I'm not really a known half-Elf."

"What do you mean by that? Who were your parents?"

"I'm not sure that I am at liberty to say who my parents are. But my mother was an Elf, and my father was… well he was a human. We'll leave it at that for the time being. What about you?"

"My parents died when I was young; I don't remember them at all."

"Knew what that felt like until about a month ago," I mumbled.

"My uncle raised me from childhood. My brother is now the heir to Rohan's throne."

"Eomer? He's the one Gandalf was sent to fetch. The head of the Rohirrim." I turned to look at Eowyn, squinting in the harsh sunlight, but she had let out an exclamation of joy at the closeness of Helm's Deep.

We walk quite far in what feels like a short amount of time, and my Elvish blood allows me to still have a great deal of energy left to fight, if that is what it comes down to.

In mere hours we reach the great fortress, built into a cliffside many years past. There are no incidents on the way, and I nearly laugh at Saruman's tactical foolishness. Not that I am in a place to be discussing medieval battle tactics, but if he truly wanted to wipe out Rohan, he should have sent a scout party to distract the warriors, and attack the weak with his main forces while they were occupied.

Then I remember that the traveling kingdom has me accompanying them, and that if I really wanted to I could probably wipe out an advance scout force. Which reminds me that I have yet to control my power, and I have a sixth sense that battle will be coming to us soon.

Finally, I relinquish my pride and finger the pendant Lady Galadriel gave me. It is smooth and cold to my touch, yet as I rub it heat burns into my fingertips. I hold out my hand, and I can see fire and water dancing in my palms, lightly touching my skin with a slight tickle.

The greatest contrast is the greatest weapon.

"Legolas!" I call to the Elf, and he sits down beside me.

"Lady Saerinil?"

"Look at this." I hold my hands to him, palm up, and flames rise from them; not evil fire, but warm, like a hearth. Then it turns blue and silver, flaring out like a snowstorm. With a mischievous grin, I snap my fingers, and water spashes over his face.

"Oh, you'll pay for that," Legolas smirks playfully.

"I highly doubt it." I splash him again, then go running onto the ramparts. The sun is just beginning to set, a beautiful golden orange that turns the sky pink. Legolas comes up beside me, his blue eyes widening like my lavender orbs as we watch the sun go down.

"It is as lovely as you, my lady." He turns and kisses my hand, and I giggle at his antics. Then quietly, I kiss his lips in front of the sunset, my hair glowing a pale gold, flying around us in the wind. My travelling dress flits about my ankles, and its long, flowing sleeves drape over Legolas's shoulders as we continue to kiss until air becomes a necessity.

"I love you," I whisper, leaning into his neck.

"And I love you, Lady Saerinil," he replies, and I feel his hand stroking my head tenderly.

Then the horn sounds behind us.

It is not crude, like an orc horn, but clear and crisp in the cooling night air. My violet eyes widen, and meet his.

"Elves," he murmurs, and we hurry down to the gate.

"Open the gate!" I call to the guards. "It's the Elves." The great doors swing open, and a precise battalion of armored Elves march through, with none other than Haldir in command. He catches my eye, and pulls me into a hug.

"Lady Saerinil, mellon nin. It is good to see you well."

"Indeed. You don't know how pleased we are to have you here" Haldir had become a good friend to us in Lorien, and I suspected he knew more of my past than he let on. Perhaps not as much as Legolas, but a good bit. I was sure with all the centuries he had spent in Lothlorien, he had his own suspicions about my heritage.

He embraces Legolas and Aragorn and even Gimli; I figure there has been some measure of peace made between them.

"Your presence is most welcome on the eve of this great battle," says Aragorn with a wide smile.

Haldir holds out a scroll in response. "It is word from Lord Elrond of Rivendell and the Lady Galadriel of Caras Galadhon. We off our aid to your plight in the wake of destruction and open war. Battle has come upon us, and we cannot ignore the growing perils that await." Aragorn takes the parchment and reads it over as Haldir turns to me.

"The Lady of the Wood would like me to deliver you a message, Lady Saerinil. She says unto you, 'be safe, for danger will find you even if you do not go looking. Take care of yourself.'" I snort knowingly. Galadriel is concerned for my safety? She could have told me the truth long ago. Why should she be concerned with me now?

I offer Haldir one last smile before the armies get divided. My gaze sweeps over the Elves, and for a moment my sharp violet eyes settle on one Elf in particular, slightly taller than the rest. I feel as if I know who he is, but I can't put a finger on it, for he is covered in the same hood as the rest. But I've seen those eyes before, somewhere. In Rivendell, perhaps? I leave to prepare my armor with Legolas.

In the armory, they try to hand me a sword, but I steadfastly refuse. I want to use my own sword for this fight. It feels more balanced, and I sense that it will channel my magic more easily. Eowyn is fuming, for she is not able to fight, but she should be glad the burdens of war do not yet fall upon her shoulders. I would be with her right now, but my magical powers would be better put to use in battle, for that is what I have experience with.

Legolas tightens my armor, his breath soft on my hair. Quietly, his fingers run through the silken golden and silver strands that tumble to my waist, until I gather them up and begin to braid, so that I can be practical for battle.

My armor is tight and leathery; it will not stop a sword, but then, little armor can fully prevent injuries. If you throw an axe at something, there's a good chance it'll go through, and Middle Earth doesn't have kevlar to protect us.

Quietly, I examine the chest piece. It looks to be made for me, but with a wave of my fingers, it turns a fiery red, with flames dancing across its surface. Legolas offers me the helm, and I take it from him, watching as it melds into the same color. I don't know if it will provide me with more protection this way, but I can only hope.

I finish my braid and tie it off, then look Legolas in the eye. My pale violet eyes are glistening with nervousness. This is the first real war I have been in and been emotionally invested in.

"If you die," I murmur, a tremor to my voice, "I don't know what I'll do."

"You'll avenge me," he replies softly, kissing my tear-stained lips, cracked and bleeding from days out on the moors. I wrap my arms around his neck, savoring what might my very last taste of my beautiful, beautiful Elf.

"I'll avenge you," I repeat, mumbling into our kiss. "And you will do the same for me?"

"Always."

I break away reluctantly, and we climb to the ramparts, standing beside Gimli and the other Elves. I look to my left, where I catch sight of a pair of sharp eyes watching me curiously beneath the blue Elven hood, framed with hair a bit like my own, pulled back away from the shadowed face. But the features are too dark to make out.

The Uruks reach Helm's Deep quickly and noisily. They bear torches and roar into the sky as clouds descend upon us and break into a great storm, thunder erupting over our heads. Lightning flashes forebodingly as they raise their weapons in a taunt, grunting and snarling below us. They are beyond ten thousand strong, and we are but few warriors.

I feel Legolas's hand close around mine, and my other hands grips the hilt of Celestion; the blade has not yet led me astray, so why should I be worried now. I turn my fear into adrenaline as the first arrow flies, and suddenly the world explodes into chaos.

First they raise the ladders, and we fire into the fray. I don't need to aim, for the Urukhai are one great mass of bodies, and there's a good chance I'll hit one if I fire. I've never fired a bow, but I find that with the strength of my blood and heritage, I can shoot pretty well. At least, I'm generally able to aim for the Uruks.

As they climb onto the ramparts with us, I can feel the heat rising in my skin, and I raise my blade to find it alight with blue flame, my armor smoldering hot. My violet eyes turn golden with anger, and I swip at the first orc I see, which tumbles away, turning to ash as it falls to the ground. The pendant still around my neck is glowing with hot white light as I fight.

The next Uruk I drown, water streaming from my fingertips and encasing it in water as I hurl this one too over the edge.

Then I remember something. I see Haldir in my mind, falling; dying, his eyes wide with shock. I remember gathering my thoughts before I came here, and seeing Haldir's heroic death on camera. Then I know that I must reach him before he dies, or at least call him back.

Fire lights around me, protecting me from blows as I think and turning to embers any enemies who get too close. As I fight I try to think where he would be. He hadn't left the ramparts yet, for they had not blown a hole in the inner gate.

I spot his billowing red cape and silver armor slicing through Uruks a level below me. "Haldir!" I shout. "Come away from there!"

He stabs one through the heart, calling back to me, "Why?" His eyes are wild and alight with fury, and I can see the adrenaline coursing through every soldier even from here.

"You'll die! I know you will! You have to trust me!" I send a fireball whizzing through an angry orc captain, and he collapses into hollow armor. I see Haldir nod, and he flees the rampart, going down to protect the inner gates. Thank the Valar he trusts my judgement, and I hope that he will be safe. There is little more I can do to protect him now through all this chaos.

Then a massive explosion throws me off the wall, and it is only by concentration that I can keep myself from hitting the ground and cracking my skull. A stream of water guides me through the air until I land softly on the stone below.

Urukhai are now streaming through the gates with twice as much vigor as before, and I know we are to fall back and protect the inner gates. I climb onto the inner wall for a better vantage point; the Urukhai have not found cause to be here, because it has no way to enter the fortress. I race down the wall to see the other side.

Then, as if a small bolt of electricity has run through me, the hair stands up on the back of my neck like it does when you're about to die, as if a magnet was held to my back just strong enough for me to feel. I know there's something behind me now.

What I see causes the blood to drain from my face in utter shock. A rogue Uruk had snuck up behind me, probably to take me out for the power I've shown. I was so focused on getting a high vantage point that I didn't notice its approach. I was too confident that none would be up here, but I didn't consider the possibility that they would communicate well enough to send one up to kill me for my magic.

Yet its blade has embedded itself in another.

The Elf who I had seen earlier with the army, with the same long braid, looks down at the crude weapon now piercing his stomach. The same dark hood shields the face, but then the Elf tears the blade away looking at the Uruk who watches now in satisfaction, and slices off its head with the speed of a falcon. Then the Elf collapses onto his knees. Looking around to make sure there are no more enemies drawing near, I grip my savior's shoulders for support.

In silence, the dark hood falls away, and his- no, _her_ head, tumbles backward into my arms.

I gasp in shock at the fair face before me, with the same sharp eyes and long hair, dressed in Elven armor.

She lied, and told me stories, but now memories are flooding back to me of old songs and a blurred face becoming clear over my head, singing softly and speaking to me in Elvish. She lied, and told me to keep myself safe. And now she has taken a blade to save me.

It is the face of Lady Galadriel.

"How-No. No, you can't die. Not now. Please don't die, please don't leave me again." I'm babbling to keep myself sane, not knowing where all this emotion is coming from. "I have healing powers, right? Tell me I have healing powers, or something to save you."

_Maethrian. _Her voice, clear and strong yet thick with pain and emotion, rings in my head. _The Prince of Mirkwood loves you with all of his heart. I could not bear to see you separated, for he has made you happy, yet all I have caused you is grief. And I-_

I hear her out loud now, rough and quiet through the lightning flashing overhead and the rain falling and soaking me through my armor.

"I am sorry."

And silence fills my ears, a rush of blood coming into my head and tears blurring my eyes with the rain. Lightning flashes, and everything goes black.

I collapse in the hot stench of blood and drums of thunder overhead, Galadriel's slowed, ragged breaths growing stiller in my ears as I cling, my consciousness fading away, weeping like a child in the crook of my mother's neck, and everything around me turns to terrifying silence.

* * *

_okay i'll bet no one saw that coming! so you think either of them will survive? and what will legolas do, and what will happen when gandalf arrives? next chapter coming :) plz plz review, guys it makes my day._


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